


Iron Match

by daniko



Category: Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love
Genre: Gen, Humor, Matchmaking, Mission Fic, Pre-Slash, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-20
Updated: 2011-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-21 14:16:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniko/pseuds/daniko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Alphabets can be mischievous little imps, too.  Add that to a father’s wish to see his son married and Dorian doing what he does best — taking advantage of the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iron Match

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dkwilliams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dkwilliams/gifts).



Dorian Red, Earl of Gloria, sauntered into the floor of the Intelligence Unit of NATO and the twenty-five employees present in the bullpen sighed in unison. Most of them — the ones not replacing agents sent to Alaska — had been around long enough to know that Eroica’s daring to enter NATO’s Headquarters unauthorised could only mean undying misery — and major headaches, no pun intended. While just moments ago, they had been moaning Mister Z’s misfortune to have been called to the boss’ office, now they realised that he was the lucky one. He’d have a task to perform as an excuse to get the hell out of dodge when the Major came out — again, no pun intended.

Dorian stopped in front’s of Mister G’s work desk and pushed himself onto the desktop, crossing his long legs and leaning back in one arm. His silk tunic flayed about, revealing more than it was acceptable of a hairless chest, his curly hair caught up in a loose bun, high on his head. “Hello, G. Everything’s all right?”

G looked at the Major’s door and, seeing no sign that he was about to exit it, grinned at Dorian. “Great, milord,” he replied, getting up to get them both coffee. “You?” he asked over his shoulder.

Dorian sighed dramatically. “My darling still hasn’t come around.” G flicked his tongue sympathetically, while Dorian produced a lacy handkerchief from his — inexistent, if you ask anyone — cleavage. “I’ll forever hold hope, though.” Dorian then put on a show of courageously dismissing his woes, and grinned. “Let’s not dwell in my misery, shall we, G darling? I have yet to tell you how stunning that skirt makes your legs—.”

“A, B and C, in my office, now!” shouted the Major, poking his head into the main room. G and Dorian closed their eyes, a painful expression on their faces, waiting for the Major to begin the usual diatribe against poufs.

It didn’t come and, before they knew it, the three officers and the Major were locked inside the latter’s office with Z. Dorian looked rather put out by the display. G could relate; it would seem that the Major didn’t even deign Dorian with his homophobic rage anymore. He found this extremely concerning. Dorian turned towards G. “Is the Third World War in the brink of surfacing?” Because, really, what other reason could there be for the Major purposefully ignoring the Earl?

G leaned forward, lowering his voice against the Major’s powerful hearing. “No. At least, nothing’s different from the usual.” His voice got even quieter. “But he’s been delegating a lot, lately. You know, assigning our usual missions to other units, even CIA!” Dorian adopted an appropriately shocked expression at that. “We think that he’s either taking a holiday or dying. There are strong bets on the latter. Iron Klaus simply does not take—.” His voice trailed off when he spotted how pale Dorian had become. “Oh, no! Sorry, milord; I’m sure he’s just fine, but you know the Major. He hardly shares, and the Alphabets tend to exaggerate.”

Dorian drew himself up, throwing any stray locks of golden hair behind his back. “Of course, love. This is the Major we’re talking about. Not even if he was dying he would take a day off.” They laughed together, stopping abruptly when the summoned Alphabets exited the Major’s office, looking baffled and worried.

A approached them, B and Z in tow. “That man is going crazy. He’s taken care of everything so that in the next two weeks we’ll be stuck in here, doing small stake-out missions and paperwork—paperwork! Iron Klaus is making us do _paperwork_.” G was just as appalled as the other Alphabets. “It’s as close as a holiday that the Major is going to get.”

G was concerned, despite his previous confidence while soothing Dorian. He had been imagining much worse scenarios and, despite the Major’s short fuse and his strictness, these four Alphabets were rather fond of their boss. “Did he say why?”

A fidgeted with his tie nervously. “He said we’re going to have a visitor with us next month—.”

“Which was when he damned Twitterswell to hell and back,” Z put in, looking smug. “I swear, some of the words he used I’d never even heard of.” The five of them exchanged nervous glances. If Iron Klaus was such in a bad mood, they’d better run and hide. Especially Dorian.

A continued, “Stubborn as he is, he’s refused to complete any missions until—.”

“Who exactly is stubborn, Herr A?” gritted out a voice behind Dorian.

Dorian tensed, while the four Alphabets outright blanched and stammered, until Z grabbed a hold of his courage and answered, “We were just updating G on our new tasks, sir. And G is being stubborn and demanding to know why.” G looked at him completely outraged, and Z gave him a look that demanded him to take one for the team.

The Major gave G an appraising look. “It seems you have more balls than I give you credit for, Herr G.” The four Alphabets sighed in relief. “It happens that NATO has hired an impartial party to evaluate our performance on the job. Unfortunately for him, he’s going to waste his time trying.” The most innerving smirk made its way to the Major’s lips. Dorian looked mesmerized for a moment, but quickly composed himself. Good thinking, because G was sure that the Major would hardly be impressed by his imitation of a fish.

“Who is it, sir?” asked Z.

The Major’s jaw tightened and he scowled. “Colonel Heinz von dem Eberbach.” After a moment of shocked silence, the pieces started to fall into their places in the Alphabets’ heads. Then dread filled them; what if the Major’s father was an enhanced version of the son? What if the Major was the _nice_ one in the family?

Once it was obvious his Alphabets’ brains were busy with the news, the Major turned to Dorian with a scowl that seemed to be consciously conjured these days and the tenacity of someone who had been waiting a long time to do so — since he’d poked his head out of his office and saw an halo of blonde curls, G suspected. “You!” he demanded, “What the fuck are you doing here? We haven’t hired you; we haven’t called you — what’s with the hair, anyway?” He gestured aimlessly. “Your perfume is different, too. I’m hardly going to look your way no matter what—.”

“Why, to see you, my love,” Dorian interrupted, smothering the grin that threatened to split his face. He smoothed the fabric of his snug green trousers with an elegant hand with polished nails, looking completely unfazed. Then he lifted his head, looking straight into the Major’s eyes, trying that look of wide-eyed innocence that was his most effective seduction ammo. “I haven’t had the pleasure in almost three months.” He pretended to shed some tears. “I’m getting lonely.”

Of course, it would be ridiculous to expect Iron Klaus to be moved by some (crocodile) tears. “Get out of here, you faggot, before I call security!” With that, Klaus stomped into his office. With a sigh, but apparently satisfied that he finally got some attention from his beloved, Dorian left the Headquarters and headed towards his Ferrari.

* * *

A stormy Monday of the following month found A, B, G and Z near G’s desk, heads bent together, whispering hurriedly. One never knew when Twitterswell — or worse, the _Eberbachs_ — might return from their lunch break. As if on cue, a loud bang of the entrance door being smashed against the wall sounded loud and clear and then, “Herr Z! My office, now!” Ever since his father’s arrival, the Major had been, if possible, moodier than before.

Instead of praying for haven as he would in regular circumstances, Z just smiled conspiratorially at his co-workers and marched towards the Major’s office, rehearsing his speech internally. After twenty minutes of de-briefing, Z decided to take the bull by its horns, in a manner of speaking.

“I don’t think it’s wise to pass this one onto the CIA, sir,” Z then said. The Major nodded, lighting a cigarette and leaning back on his seat, a contemplative gleam in his eyes. Seeing the opening, Z asked with deceptive casualness, “Maybe we should deal with this one off the record?” while pretending to check something up on the file he had on his hands.

He looked up to face the Major’s hardened stare, and felt himself go a bit faint. “Speak frankly or do not speak at all, Herr Z,” the Major grouched. “If that’s your inept way of suggesting we hire Eroica, I advise you to leave my sight right now—and proceed to make the call,” he added resentfully. He didn’t have to say it twice before Z was hurrying away from the Major’s office, flashing a cheering grin in A’s direction.

They could always trust the Major to bring Eroica into the conversation.

* * *

“Quite frankly, darling! There’s no need for violence,” Dorian protested affronted when the Klaus hastily fastened up the dress he had chosen for the occasion, catching his hair in the zip. The dress was red, sleeveless, with a dash that reached Dorian’s thighs; his golden curls fell onto his bare back and the expensive jewellery rattled on his wrists. He should have been a temptation; for anyone less than his darling, of course. The Major scowled at him — adorably so, if you asked Dorian, thus why he couldn’t help but asking, “How do I look, dear Major?”

The Major shrugged. “Like a woman, and that’s precisely the point.” He must have realised that something was missing in his reply, because he added hastily, “And stop bothering me with this dandyish nonsense!” Then, he stomped out the hotel room. Dorian chuckled.

Dorian was taking a leisure drag of his cigarette, perched on the Major’s bed — imagination running wild, naturally — when the Major got in, arms full of buzzing devices, banging the door closed after him. “Listen to me, Eroica,” the Major demanded, shaking a finger in front of Dorian’s face. “We can’t provide back-up if things go pear-shaped, so don’t get caught.” Dorian nodded, feeling a bit lightheaded from the smell of the Major’s aftershave.

Briskly, the Major pulled him upright to gear him up, and knelt at Dorian’s feet. Dorian sighed resignedly, knowing that, as usual, he would get out of this part of the routine with a ragging hard-on. When the Major swatted his legs apart, Dorian felt his knees wobble and almost sat down again, except that he’d rather not deal with an embarrassed Major — all sorts of violence ensued then.

The Major began fastening the revolver’s holster around Dorian’s thigh with the focus of a disciplined soldier; Dorian’s breath hitched, his bits twitching in sympathy. “Darling,” he breathed pleadingly.

The Major looked up, flushed at what he saw, and grouched, “No self-control whatsoever. I have no idea how you haven’t been caught yet.”

Indignation was enough to tame Dorian’s arousal for a while and he crossed his arms sullenly. “I’ll have you know that my self-control is outstanding when you’re not around, darling.” For a moment, he swore that the Major’s lips had twitched upwards, but the Major didn’t acknowledge Dorian in any way.

“Why do you shave your legs, anyway?” he demanded, attaching the wire’s battery to Dorian’s other thigh, brushing way too close to the prize. Dorian tensed and didn’t reply because, frankly, he didn’t trust his voice right then. The Major brought his hand past Dorian’s waistline so that he could place the wire on the dress’ cleavage, and got up to do exactly that.

Dorian wasn’t sure if it spoke for or against him that the Major wasn’t the least bit bothered to be touching Dorian so intimately. The same couldn’t be said for him, unfortunately. They were so close, and Dorian could feel the Major’s body heat, smell his shampoo, aftershave and perfume, and watch as he tensed his jaw and narrowed his eyes in concentration, acting with the utmost control and resolve, and all of it was getting Dorian on edge.

“Darling, unless your intention is actually groping me, I suggest you move away before I attack you.”

Predictably, although much to Dorian’s disappointment, the Major jumped away as if burnt. “Pervert!” He took a long-suffering sigh and knelt in front of Dorian again. “If you so much twitch, I’ll cut your hair in your sleep,” the Major threatened, shoving hands inside Dorian’s dress to synchronise the wire with the right frequency.

Before any of them could say any more, a rough voice sounded in the doorway, “What is this?”

Numerous things happened at once, the result being one damned tragedy: the Major startled and hit Dorian’s crotch; Dorian yelped, lost his balance, and ended up sprawled on the bed, tears in his eyes and legs closed protectively — trapping the Major’s hand in a very sensitive place. He instantly felt himself go hard.

The Major snatched his hand away, eyes wide in horror. The world froze as the Major stared at him, gobsmacked.

The moment went by, and the Major visibly tried to compose himself: he closed his eyes, took a shuddering breathe — good thing, really, because his brow was twitching in that way that prophesied Alaska for Alphabets and pain for Dorian — and that was when Dorian’s curiosity got a hold of him.

He looked over the Major’s head to see a short man, shorter than even G in fact, with the Major’s green eyes and facial features, standing in the doorway, scowling at the two of them; G was next to him, looking suspiciously innocent.

“Is this the reason you’ve been denying my requests, Klaus?” the man demanded. Dorian felt instant kinship with this man, his darling’s father, surely, who looked like a future version of his beloved — how the Major would look if he were to grow old with Dorian.

Dorian sighed at the thought, which earned him an odd look from said beloved himself.

The Major visibly schooled his face into blankness and, getting up, turned to glare at his father with his arms crossed over his chest, preening a little. He sneered, “No. If you’d recall, the reason why I’ve been denying your suggestions—and I use the word loosely—is because I have _no wish to get married_!”

It was obviously an old discussion, and Dorian drank every word, avid for more knowledge of his beloved. Besides, this opportunity would be over as soon as the Major had time to process the fact that he had just basically groped another man’s cock.

The Major would probably have half a mind to send _Dorian_ to Alaska.

The Colonel looked up at his son suspiciously, jaw tight, looking no less threatening despite his height. In fact, he gave away the distinct feeling of repressed strength, danger and self-imposed morals; the type of man that could kill you and get away with it.

Dorian smiled openly at the thought, which seemed to catch the attention of the elder Eberbach. The Colonel’s face softened and he spared Dorian a gallant smile. “Please forgive our inconsideration, my dear. I’m afraid Eberbachs are hot-headed men, and Klaus here inherited the worst of it.”

It was nice to be on an Eberbach’s good-side for a change. Aloud, Dorian said, “No such worries, sir. The Major and I were just getting ready for the upcoming mission. I happened to have lost my balance in these tortuous shoes.” He gave the man his most charming smile. “How women wear them, I’ll never understand.” The Colonel laughed, which was like watching the Major laugh, and patted his son in the back approvingly, before stepping out of the room, reminding them to hurry.

The Major was looking at Dorian suspiciously. “What?” Dorian demanded defensively.

“I worry when you’re quiet,” the Major deadpanned, collecting the schematics and the building’s layouts. Thanking whatever deity for the Major’s coolness on this one, Dorian allowed himself a moment to admire the Major’s rear view, before composing himself, lest the Major notice his scrutiny.

“Why, darling,” he teased, “worried about me?”

The Major straighten up abruptly, looking over his shoulder to see Dorian examining his nails nonchalantly. “Don’t push me! I’d rather not send you to your mission with a black eye.” Dorian shuddered at the threat. “It wouldn’t help you charm the suspect, now, would it? And you’ll need all the help you can get,” the Major added nastily, making Dorian bristle in indignation. Not giving him a change to reply, the Major stalked out of the room yelling, “And if you ever harass me again, I’ll break your legs!”

Really, there were days when Dorian wanted nothing more than punch his darling in the nose.

As it was, he merely exited the room, swaying his hips and smiling all around, decidedly ignoring the Major’s glower, and let A drive him towards the party in a white limousine — courtesy of NATO.

* * *

Just outside the targeted location, Major Klaus von dem Eberbach and his four trustworthy Alphabets, glowering Colonel notwithstanding, sat inside a discreet van, listening to Eroica flirting shamelessly with the suspect. Klaus clenched his jaw. Apparently, it was working. Damned fop. Rather well-endowed fop, too. As if Klaus didn’t have enough reasons to hate Eroica.

It wasn’t long before Ahmed Al Sha took Eroica to his quarters, all praise and gallantry, just to excuse himself for a while as he finished some business in the outer study with his henchmen, and then Eroica’s voice sounded louder from the intercom. “I swear, darling—” Klaus tensed and sent a sideways glance towards his father, but he just looked smugly satisfied with what he was hearing. “—if I didn’t know your prudish person personally, I’d swear all spies are bloody perverted.”

Z and G looked like they were choking back a snicker, and A and B were suspiciously looking the other way. But Heinz looked giddy with what he was hearing; it didn’t bode well with Klaus. Surely his father didn’t approve of his only son being consorting with a flamboyant fag. Eroica spoke again, voice muffled as he was certainly picking the lock of Al Sha’s vault with his tools trapped between his teeth like Klaus had seen him do so many times, “‘oo mush-t ‘ea-ise I do—ha!”

The lock clicked open. “Got it! It even says ‘Top Secret’. You spies are dreadfully obvious.” Some rustling was heard as Eroica must be getting up from inside Al Sha’s closet. “Anyway, darling, I do these things just for you and what do I get in return? Nothing, that’s—.”

“What the hell are you doing, you bitch?!” Al Sha’s voice sounded in the room, angry and dripping with threat.

“Oh, what do you think, luv? I’m double-crossing you.” More rustling sound, before Eroica snickered. “Ta!” Then he suddenly yelped. “You bloody traitorous ponce! If this leaves a mark, I’m going to cut your balls off and shove them down your throat!” Eroica screamed and a struggle ensued, with bibelots crashing soundly as they were thrown, the distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh and furniture being crashed into.

Heinz was at Klaus’ side in a flash. “You’ve got to help the lady, Klaus.” Klaus waved him off; he knew Eroica could hold his own.

As if to prove him right, Al Sha yelled, cursed and then hit the floor with a loud thud, then two more thuds followed, Eroica sighing in relief. “Again, darling, I’m expecting compensation for this. Now, tell me how I get out of here. I can’t very well walk out when there’s two more fearsome bullies, thinking I’m being ravished as they wait.”

The sound of Eroica’s rich voice was followed by the tearing of cloth, and Klaus felt himself go pale at the thought that Eroica was, undoubtedly, slashing his dress short.

He clenched his jaw tightly, analysing his options. He couldn’t very well send in his team when they had no legal support on the matter and he absolutely wouldn’t leave Eroica to fend for himself. Finally, he turned towards his Alphabets. “You stay here,” he ordered checking the ammunition of his Magnum .45, “If this doesn’t work out, get back to Bonn and get me out of jail!”

A turned towards the Colonel, as soon as the Major was gone. “They always do this, sir. Nothing to worry about.”

The Colonel spared him a haughty stare and A fidgeted, remembering in a flash the multiple times when he had been under that same stare, only coming from somewhere higher and usually followed by the threat of Alaska. “I’m not concerned about my son or his girlfriend, Herr A.” The Alphabets twitched in harmony. “I’m more worried about the jobs of the lot of you when I make my report!”

The Alphabets exchanged sympathetic glances. If, before, their lives were borderline hellish, now — well, now, they had _two_ devils to deal with. None of them corrected the Colonel’s confusion regarding Dorian’s gender. Their plan was already paying off: soon, both Eberbachs would be too busy dealing with Dorian and his crush over Klaus and the Alphabets would have two well-deserved weeks of holiday — doing _paperwork_ , but still.

They all jumped when the Major’s voice sounded on the intercom, “Get back at the Hotel. Eroica and I’ll ride the limousine.”

* * *

The Alphabets and the Colonel entered the Major’s bedroom as he placed a pack of ice on Dorian’s nose, his knuckles stained with blood that was not his own. As usual.

Dorian winced at the pressure on his once perfectly straight nose. “I use’do be so beautiful,” he mourned, opening his eyes to see the Major look up as if praying for patience. It didn’t settle well with him. “You needn’d do make dat face, Major! I’m de one whose nose god broken; I ‘ave ev’ry right do complain. What if it can’d be pud dogeder again? What if I’m goin’ to spend de rest of my life an ugly monsder? What if—?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” the Major interrupted harshly, “It’s not even broken; it’s just a little sore.” He pulled the ice back a little to assess the damage, before placing it on Dorian’s nose again.

“Don’de be a brude!” Dorian protested, when the Major’s hand tightened on his hair to force him to tilt his head back.

“Don’t be a baby!” the Major snapped back.

“Klaus!” a third voice was heard, “She has every right to complain. Women shouldn’t be hit not even with a flower.” The Major and Dorian exchanged glances.

 _‘She? Women?’_ Dorian thought, worriedly. Surely the man didn’t really though he was a woman? Dorian was rather fond of his bits, thank you very much. Shoving the ice pack off his face, he opened his mouth to clear the misunderstanding, but the Colonel spoke up, “And what kind of man are you if you put your intended through such dangers, hmm? I thought I’d taught you to be a gentleman, Klaus.”

Dorian tried to interrupt again, but his good manners wouldn’t let him, and the Colonel kept on talking. Luckily, his brute of a darling wasn’t so courteous. “You’re right, father.” Dorian’s head snapped up at the blatant lie, but the Major refused to meet his gaze. “I didn’t have any other choice, and—uh, Gloria here volunteered. She understands how important my job is.”

Dorian was sure he was gaping like a fish. But elegancy had been shoved out of his mind by the fact that the Major was — what? What was the Major aiming at, exactly? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Alphabets all but hi-fiving each other. His eyes narrowed speculatively. A thank-you gift might be in order. But, of course, first he had to make the most out of this. If Klaus wanted to get rid of his father’s pressure, Dorian would get something for his troubles.

“Klaus is right, sir,” Dorian intervened, producing a frilly handkerchief from his cleavage to clean up his inexistent tears, “I need to support my darling.” The Colonel flicked his tongue in approval and Dorian whooped internally. “I’m sure he’ll come around soon. I’m hardly getting any younger and we have children to . . . .” Dorian trailed off when the Major began glaring daggers at him. He didn’t want to push the Major too far, now, did he?

“Such an admirable woman,” the Colonel praised, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m glad my son has you by his side.” He then seemed to notice how short Dorian’s dress had become, because he shot a glare at his son. “Here, sweetheart,” he said, taking off his jacket and placing it on Dorian’s knees.

Klaus pinched the bridge of his nose, and Dorian could almost hear his mind working, pondering whether it was worthy to put up with Dorian to shut up his father. He obviously hadn’t intended on going this far. And Dorian didn’t plan on lying to the elder Eberbach forever — he’d never do such cruelty — just until the Major was trapped in his lures. Of course, the Major didn’t need to know that. “Not as delighted as I am, sir. And let me assure that you’ve raised a wonderful son.”

They shared a smile and that was when the Major lost his patience. “Okay! Let’s stop this twaddle. We need to get back at Bonn—.”

Unfortunately, the Colonel had a fuse as short as his son’s. “Klaus! Enough is enough. I want you to take a time off work. Twitterswell tells me you have numerous years of vacation accumulated. It’s time you use it and you’ll work on your relationship with Fraulein Gloria.” Dorian almost cackled in glee. “In fact, I want you both with me in Rothenburg for summer.”

Dorian cheered to himself. That was four months away — for months during which he had an excuse to tag along his darling.

For a moment there, it looked like the Major was going to protest, but then he relented. With a gleam in his eyes similar to a predator’s when poised to attack, he turned to Dorian and held out a hand, as if to help him up. Except that he leaned in and spoke quietly in Dorian’s ear, “I’m so going to get for this, Eroica.” The shiver that went through Dorian’s body wasn’t entirely due to fear.

 

The End


End file.
